Survived
by kricket
Summary: One child's narration of the Passover.


Exodus 12  
  
"Survival isn't always romantic. Survival isn't really a story of daring, but a story of living." - Anonymous   
  
*****  
  
My mother's grip was the tightest I remember. Her jerky weaving through the dense crowd abruptly ceased, with my nose crashing into the small of her back.   
"What is it, Mama?"   
"Nothing little one. Moses is talking about things you can't understand. You're too young," she assumed.  
Moses.   
"You don't like Moses, Mama. You said he was a decheatful....."  
"Mama is human and she was wrong. And that's deceitful," she chided. "I knew I should have left you with Tebeth." She straightened and shushed me.  
Moses began to speak. I never remembered Mama liking Moses. None of the other adults seem to take to him at first either. Tebeth always said he "don't know nothin' about nothin'". She told me stories about how he was born a slave, like me, but Yahweh took pity on him and turned him into a prince. Then he ran away, but I don't know why. Why run to the desert when he could stay here, with good food - enough food - and clothes and servants and laughter and wine and the other treats of rich Egyptian life?  
Moses was tall, with leathery olive skin and silver hair of lightening bolts. He seemed old but strong. His hands had obviously seen years of hard work, an older version of mine. I wondered if his back was marked with the teeth of the whips, like mine. With the soft voice of an unsure man, he commanded the crowd.   
"Children of Israel, please. God has heard your cries and know is the time to release you from your bondage of the Egyptians. Tonight is the final night. Every firstborn in the land of Egypt will die when God sends his Angel of Death." The multitudes of slaves gave a collective gasp. "Unless," he continued, "you take the blood of a pure lamb and wipe it around the doorway of your households. God will spare those who obey during his final demonstration of his power over the Egyptians and Pharoah will set you free...."  
Yahweh had "demonstrated" his power a lot recently. First the Nile, our life source, turned into blood. The bitter stink of blood and death seemed to condense and rise to God himself. Frogs were next, their beady eyes and slimy legs waiting in every nook, cranny, and bed of Egypt. I was terrified when the gnats came. Frogs I could handle, but bugs were unnatural to me. Mama decided enough was enough and hid me in the house and barred the doors so the patrol wouldn't know I wasn't working. I hid under our straw mat, just to be safe. Thunderclouds of flies had settled over Egypt, buzzing and zipping about my ears. Many Egyptian cattle herds got sick and died. But when I checked on ours, they were all healthy. The painful itch of boils swept the land. Ice fires of hail came and went, devastating Egyptian crops, livestock, even people. The locusts came and ate any crop that dared survive the hailstorm. Then there was the night of several days. Mama called them all miracles, fingers of Yahweh himself. She started listening to Moses then. Every trial and plague came in like a mountain lion and left without a trace, unless you count all the destruction. Mama said it was because Pharoah said we had to stay. God sent a plague and then Pharaoh said we could go, but when the plague left he would change his mind. Again.  
  
*****  
Mama and I went around to collect gold from the Egyptians today. Moses said Yahweh said we should. Shebat, the governor's wife, was especially kind to us. She gave us earrings of bright gold and clean jade. Her necklace of silver and sapphire shimmered brightly in the damp light of our hut. Mama even let me touch it, I had never seen anything so fine before. "Times are changing," everyone said. They must have been right, for a ring of silver and diamonds slumped loosely around my coarse thumb.   
  
*****  
"Tebeth, please. I really, really have to go," I whined.  
"You should have thought of that before you left the bowl outside."  
I crossed my legs and jumped up and down. Mama sighed tiredly.  
"Here, go in that." She tossed me an eating bowl. What a relief. When I crossed the floor to dump the load out the window, Tebeth grabbed my arm, almost causing me to spill the gross contents of my makeshift bedpan. "Don't," she hissed.  
"But Tebeth, it'll stink up the room," I complained.  
"I don't care," she jeered. "Just don't."  
"You're not my Mama, you're just my sister," I retorted.  
"Listen to you sister."  
"Mama..."  
"Listen to your sister," Mama reiterated, in that don't-make-me-pull-out-the-spoon voice. Mama sighed again. "No one is to go out or even open a window in this hut tonight. It is to dangerous.... not when we are this close," she whispered.  
"This close to what, Mama?"   
"We leave Egypt tomorrow, little one. Free. Do you understand that?" she questioned hopefully.  
"Why is it dangerous?"  
Mama chuckled and beckoned me to sit on her lap. "Ah, my little one," she laughed out loud, "you are entirely to curious for your own good. But they haven't beat it of you yet and they can't now. We are free, baby. Free," Mama finished proudly. "Now head to bed."  
"But Mama.."  
"Bed!"  
  
  
  
*****  
  
I was almost glad Mama had clearly adopted the "Use the rod, beat the child" principle. Discipline from the very start. Several times my curiosity almost got the best of me that last night. What was it Mama was so clearly afraid of? Maybe it was the Angel of Death. Thoughts of Him, Her, or It alone was enough to send me flying back under my tattered quilt of old shirts. I still couldn't sleep though, not before, and definitely not after It hit.  
It was as dark and violent as a drunk Egyptian on celebration night and calm and peaceful as the Nile after flood season. Sweeping and arching throughout Egypt, it sent a silence so loud I thought my eardrums would burst under Its groping pressure. I could feel It checking every dwelling from the grand palaces to sun-kissed dirt huts to stables. Its fingers covetously but musically stole the souls of princes, maidservants, even cows. I could feel It heading towards my district, my alley, my flap of a door. I shook violently and begged Yahweh to spare the life of Tebeth. She was high on her ragged mule and a pain, but she was also my only sister, and I couldn't part with her. I was to the point of demanding It to take me in her place when It vanished.  
Silence. A mother's shriek rose in the aftermath. A father's agonized groan filled the dark. One. Three. A hundred. Thousands. Voices swelled and elevated and sliced open the very soul of the night, of life itself. Pain. Pain so palpable you could breathe it in, filling your blood, your very heart. Cries beseeched Ra, Mut, Ptah, Anubis, anyone to rescind the curse upon them, maiming themselves as sacrifices, pleading for some sort of redemption. But the Redeemer had already come.   
Mama assumed I wouldn't understand, that I couldn't. She was wrong. How could anyone live and see and breathe tonight and generations of slavery and not understand the relief of a whip no longer at your back or a clammy sweat of blood and spit cleared from your face? Pharoah will let us go now because he has no choice.   
I understand Mama. We are free. 


End file.
